


Prepared For the Unpreparable

by Ornament_of_Rhyme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Obligatory Bloody Hell, Post-Hogwarts, Smut, kinda awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 18:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ornament_of_Rhyme/pseuds/Ornament_of_Rhyme
Summary: Finally, they have the house to themselves. Thanks to Hermione, they're all set.





	Prepared For the Unpreparable

**Author's Note:**

> This was written purely in the movieverse, as I can't claim to have any sort of handle on the versions of the characters in the books. Also, I'd like to add that I am not a Romione shipper, so I don't know that I accurately depicted their interactions. I wrote this for a friend.

After what seemed like hours to Hermione, (which apparently flew by for Ron), Luna bid farewell. More fond of her these days than their time in school, Ron graciously led her to the door. Hermione, of course, wasn't far behind, but she knew Ron was more Luna's friend than she herself was, and she didn't want to stifle them.

 

After their guest had gone, however, Hermione took him by the hand and led them to their room, where they each took up their regular spots on the bed. It was then, in the peaceful hush off the late afternoon, that she made her suggestion.

 

“I don't—I don't—“ Ron spluttered.

 

“It's alright if you don't know what you're doing, Ronald. _I've_ done a bit of reading on the subject,” she tried to reassure.

 

“On this?” He asked, astounded. Then he flopped back into the mattress. “Of course you have.”

 

“Well is this something you want to do? We've been waiting for weeks to find some time alone, and I'm not sure when we'll have this opportunity again.”

 

“I do.” He sat up, grasping her wrist to stamp a chaste kiss there. “I do, Hermione.”

 

“Good,” she said. “I suppose next we're supposed to...” A long minute passed.

 

Smoothly, Ron lifted off his shirt, letting it pool on the floor by the bed.

 

“That's a start,” she said, or began to, when he flipped their positions, leaving her prone on her back.

 

Ron pulled himself up to his hands and knees, hovering over her. She reached up and traced her passion into his chest, but he didn't seem enlivened by her touch. Instead his head went limp, dangling so his hair hid his face. She waited for him to re-inflate, but soon she realized it wasn't going to happen on its own. In fact, he was trembling.

 

“Relax, Ron,” she said quietly. “It's just me.”

 

Ron huffed, dropping his head to rest in the curve of her neck. “That's exactly why I can't relax, Hermione,” he said, squeaking at the end.

 

“I'll try to make it easy for you,” she said. “What do you want to do first?”

 

“I want to taste you,” he said quietly to her collarbone. When a few long seconds passed with no response from Hermione, he rasped out, “Mione?”

 

“Ron, I can't kiss you if you're not looking at me,” she replied.

 

He rose up enough that she could just barely see the blush creeping over his ear. “Not a kiss. I meant...”

 

She buried her gobsmacked expression behind layers of mock surety, and nodded. “Right. Well then. Let's do that.”

 

And so they set about repositioning themselves, each with shaky, nervous movements. Hermione slipped out of her dress (carefully picked out that morning with the knowledge that they would have alone time at last) and waited in her underclothes. Ron got on his knees on the floor at the end of the bed, and waited patiently.

 

“What about your trousers?” she protested. “If I have to be naked, you do, too.”

 

“Alright,” he murmured, and she realized he couldn't blush any deeper.

 

After he stripped down to his boxers, Ron got back on his knees. They stared at each other.

 

“Okay,” she said, telling them both, “It will get easier as we go.”

 

Taking that as her go-ahead, Ron reached up to her hips. He carefully hooked his fingers into the band of her charm pink underwear, slid it down her legs, and let it fall to the floor. Then he pulled her closer, situating himself between her legs. Hermione's breath caught in her lungs as he nudged her legs open wider, and leaned forward.

 

As though preparing for a kiss, Ron nosed the plush skin between her legs, and all at once Hermione was breathing again, fast and excited, but not loud, no. She choked that back.

 

That is, up until he dipped a little lower and pressed his lips to her vagina. Then she let out a harsh, shuttering breath. He snapped up, afraid he'd done something to harm her, but Hermione shook her head. “I'm fine, Ron. Keep going.”

 

He did just that, this time with more gusto. He leaned back into her, and lapped at the silken folds of her labia. Muted sounds came from Hermione as he licked, as he explored. But before long she surprised them both with a loud groan of pleasure. Ron's eyes snapped to her face, though he did not pull back this time. Instead, he made sure to repeat what he had done to cause her reaction.

 

From then on, Ron's eyes were glued to her face, drinking in all of the minute changes in her expression, and savoring them. He himself was straining against his boxers, dying to be touched, dying to be inside of her—and to be so close to her face as to kiss her. Seeing her delight, hearing her moans, he felt as though he couldn't get any harder, and all at once he realized that if he didn't stop soon, he would beat her to the finish.

 

With that realization in mind, Ron pulled back and said to her, “Mione, I want—“ He wasn't sure how to say it. “Can I... er... be inside...”

 

The daze that had glazed over her eyes during his treatment ebbed away, and she came back to herself. Catching on to his meaning, she said, “Of course. Yes. There's a condom in the drawer.” She nodded to the bedside table, and collapsed back, taking deep breaths. They had covered a lot of ground, she thought to herself. They had made good progress.

 

Eventually, Ron slipped in behind her, limning her back with his chest. He pulled her close, stealing a lingering kiss.

 

“Is this how you want to lay?” Hermione asked.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed, already lifting her leg, pulling her close to access her body easier. “Are you ready, Mione?”

 

She wasn't, actually, but it was the kind of _wasn't_ that wouldn't go away with time. She knew she just had to get it over with. Instead, she nodded.

 

Clumsily, he grabbed his cock and rubbed it around her labia until finally, he found the right spot. He pushed in haltingly, freezing when he heard her breath catch a little too sharply.

 

“What—what's wrong?” he asked, trembling at the feeling of being inside of her, if only just slightly. But it did not distract him from checking on her. His eyes searched for hers, despite knowing that she couldn't turn her neck far enough to meet them with her own.

 

She said, “It's more uncomfortable than I expected.”

 

“Yeah...”

 

“But it's a good uncomfortable,” she reassured. “I just wasn't expecting it... Which I already said. Gosh, Hermione,” she berated herself, laughing oddly.

 

Ron understood then that she was just as nervous as he himself. Though he wished to say something to calm her like she had for him, he knew he didn't have the way with words she or Harry did. So instead, he released her leg to reach over her waist, and twine their fingers together. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder.

 

Eventually, when she felt calmer, she squeezed his hand, and he took it as a push to go on. He held his breath, and sunk himself deeper into her. It took some time to adjust to the feeling—and what a feeling it was—but each was comfortable simply laying together like that. Their fingers danced over each others free arm.

 

“I'm ready,” she said eventually, just as he was about to say the same.

 

Achingly slow, he pulled back, and pushed back in. Soon they moaned and breathed to the tentative rhythm of thrusts.

 

“Is this—alright, Mione?”

 

“Yes, Ron,” she said with a breathy laugh. “Oh,” a sigh. “Right there.”

 

Emboldened by her approval, he pulled back just that much further, and slid in all the deeper. Her head arched back, exposing the smooth flesh of her neck. Lost to the want, he reached up to brush his fingers over her neck, dragging them down to her breasts. But his eyes stayed on her; on her beautiful face. Even when his eyes grew heavy with the overwhelming sensations, they remained slotted open so he could watch her enjoyment. She was enchanting.

 

Before long, he felt himself building to an apex. He groaned, and it was about the only warning he could give before he came. Hermione felt him fall limp, and when he pressed his forehead into the back of her neck, she reached back to comb her fingers through his hair.

 

As he came down from the high, he felt the bed shake with hurried movement. Looking up, he saw that Hermione had reached down, and was rubbing herself to climax. Guiltily, he pulled out of her and resumed his stance at the foot of the bed to help her. Only a minute later, she moaned and sighed and arched, and fell back, spent. He slipped out of the condom to tie it off, and hurried to drop it in the trash can in the adjoining bathroom.

 

When he came back, she was beneath the comforter, waiting for him to curl up beside her. With their bare skin brushing together beneath the downy blankets, they pulled one another close and shared kisses like secrets.

 

Once, after what seemed like hours, Hermione murmured, “Well I believe that was a success.”

 

Ron nodded, in absolute agreement.

 

Suddenly there came a brusque knock at the door. Not waiting for an answer, it opened, and in peeked Harry's shock of black hair.

 

“Hey, I'm hom—whoa no.” Abruptly, he shut the door. From further down the hall they heard him yell, “Lock the door next time!”

 

Ron buried his face in Hermione's neck, flushing red once more. “Bloody hell,” he breathed.

 


End file.
